


Tear You Apart

by HeartlessMemo



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Cunnilingus, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Expanded Convent scene, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Murder, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartlessMemo/pseuds/HeartlessMemo
Summary: When the wolves have eaten their fill and the screams finally stop, one nun remains alive hiding under a pew. Dracula offers her the same choice he gave the others: Who would she rather have tear her apart? The wolves? Or him?
Relationships: Dracula/Original Character(s), Dracula/Original Female Character, Dracula/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 145





	Tear You Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags and warnings on this fic. This one-shot features non-con elements and murder. It's based on the convent scene in episode one and is basically an excuse for me to spend more time in the head space of that scene.

Sister Evangeline averts her gaze as the demonic form stalking outside the convent gates manifests into the shape of a very tall, very naked man. She fixes her eyes to the weathered cobbles and tightens trembling fingers round the wooden stake in her hands. Her arms are tucked close to her body, her shoulders hunch forward in an unconscious attempt to make herself appear smaller to avoid the predator’s notice. **  
**

She’s never felt such visceral fear in her life. It’s so intense she thinks she will either faint or be sick. Her sisters feel the same. Waves of terror pass from one nun to the next at the man’s words and actions. Had she not personally witnessed him crawl forth from the wolf’s twitching body she might take him for a madman. But as the confrontation between him and Sister Agatha plays out she learns he’s something far more frightful.

Count Dracula. The devil incarnate.

Once she allows her eyes to wander upward she finds she cannot look away. His naked skin glows in the light of the torches as if kissed by hellfire. His lips spread in a feral smile as he flicks his eyes from one stunned face to the next finally settling on hers and holding her captive in his hypnotic gaze. His voice rings through the courtyard, addressing them all, but his eyes stay focused on Evangeline.

“The first one to invite me in stays at my side!” he announces. “The others I will tear apart and LADIES! I will. Take. My. Time. One should never rush a nun…”

An icy shiver creeps down her spine at his words and she feels her feet moving of their own accord, stepping forward as her lips part to speak the words. Count Dracula’s smile widens and his eyes blaze in anticipation but Sister Agatha interrupts before she can utter the invitation that would doom them all. Agatha’s bold intervention saves her and Evangeline falls back in line with the others, panting in shock at the sin she’s nearly commited. Lord, save me, she prays to a resounding, oppressive silence from the cosmos.

Once Agatha has turned the demon away the sisters gather in the chapel for prayer. Mother Superior stands before them and her words are uplifting, inspiring, an answer to the emptiness she’s felt inside when her prayers go unanswered. She must look within herself for the voice of her God. She must find His strength in her own strength. 

It’s a moment of pure serenity and peace after the misery of the confrontation outside. She bows her head in a prayer of gratitude just as the echo of sharp footsteps sounds from the corridor. Evangeline looks up in time to see the monster, Count Dracula, standing inside the chapel holding Mother Superior’s severed head aloft, grinning in delight as the nuns begin a chorus of screams. 

Evangeline’s throat closes shut, she wheezes and gasps desperate to drag air into her lungs but her body shuts down in panic. Dracula stands before them, resplendent in his tailored suit and long, dark cape. The perfect image of a refined gentleman. Yet his actions and words are savage. He tosses the head into the crowd of terrified nuns, taunting them with their own impending death. Evangeline crouches on the stone floor, cowering beneath a pew. Some of her sisters are braver than she. They stand up, wielding their crucifixes against the vampire. At first it appears effective but Evangeline watches the Count from her hiding place as he settles casually into a chair, spreading his cape beneath him and leaning back with an air of one about to take in a show.

“So…” he begins, in a conversational tone as if holding twenty nuns hostage and threatening their lives is an everyday occurrence, “I suppose I’ll just have to control myself. But–between you and me–controlling wolves is just so much more fun…It’s a question of who you’d rather have tear you apart, I suppose. You have a choice of course. I’m undead, I’m not unreasonable.”

At his words the first howls begin sounding from just outside the chapel doors. Evangeline climbs farther under the pew, tucking her legs in close to her body as she watches a whole pack of wolves race by her and begin lunging at the crowd of nuns in the center aisle. Her lips tremble and a wail of sorrow escapes her throat before she slaps her hands over her mouth, muffling hysterical sobs. From her spot beneath the first pew she can see only the Count’s gleaming, polished shoes and the bottom of his cape. But she hears everything. The screams, the moans, the horrid ripping sound of teeth rending limb from limb. It goes on for hours. Or minutes. She can’t be sure. The whole time she lays curled in a ball, rigid and terrified of making a single movement or sound that would attract attention. 

It ends with a resounding, chilling silence. Evangeline is frozen in place, desperately trying to control her heavy breathing. She can see the dead, glassy eyes of Sister Camille staring at her from the place she’d fallen mere feet away from her. She hears the low whines of the wolves, the soft padding of their paws over the flagstone floor. And she sees Count Dracula’s well-shod feet. He hasn’t moved from his seat at the front of the chapel.

Evangeline moans in terror when she addresses her, “You can come out now, little one.”

She doesn’t move an inch. She could not move even if she wished to do so. Her muscles are rigid, her limbs locked into place. With no point in further concealment she finally allows herself to cry. The wolves quirk their ears and lick their lips as they catch the soft sounds of her cries and the rich scent of her still-flowing blood.

“Now, now, Sister, do as you’re told. Unless you’d like me to have one of my pets drag you out from under there…” Dracula sounds intrigued by the idea.

Mustering all of her remaining strength, Evangeline crawls out from under the pew, exposing herself to the gleaming predator gaze of both wolf and vampire. She spider walks backward until her back meets the chapel wall, putting as much distance between herself and them as she can. The wolves are held at bay for now. There are six of them and they stand immobile around the Count. Awaiting his command.

She looks up into the vampire’s face, quaking at the sight of his cruel smile and cold eyes.

“Tell me your name,” he commands, rising from his seat and stalking toward her. His cape flows into place around him lending even more severity to his already intimidating height. He walks until the tips of his polished shoes brush the fabric of her habit. Evangeline is forced to crane back her neck to meet his eyes as she addresses him.

“My name is…” she tries to inject her voice with Sister Agatha’s bravery, “Sister Evangeline of St. Mary’s Convent.”

Dracula smirks down at her and holds out a hand before her tear streaked face. Evangeline stares at it for a moment, the long, elegant fingers tipped with wickedly sharp points. Drawing in a shaky breath she reaches up and places her small hand in his. She half expects him to crush her hand in a bruising grip, but he merely tightens his hold gently and assists her in getting to her feet.

“Evangeline,” he stretches out the syllables on his tongue, “I’ll give you the same offer I gave the others: Who would you rather have tear you apart, darling? The wolves? Or me?”

His hand on hers effectively holds her in place as the wolves circle them, baring their teeth and growling low in their throats. Evangeline’s eyes flick wildly back and forth, dancing between the genteel murderer before her and the hungry wolves all around. One of the wolves lunges forward and snags the edge of her habit in his powerful jaws, tugging the material and starting to pull Evangeline away.

“No!” she screams, reaching out her hands to clutch at the vampire’s sleeves. “No, no, please, not the wolves.”

Dracula’s face lights with pleasure and he dismisses the wolf pack with a wave of his hand. The animals slink out of the chapel leaving Evangeline alone with the monster. He steps into her personal space, gathering her up in his arms and holding her to his chest in a parody of a lover’s embrace.

He bends his head forward to whisper into her ear, lips brushing sensuously against her skin, “I hoped you’d choose me, Evangeline. I knew there was something special about you.”

Evangeline quakes, her knees grow weak and she sags bonelessly into his arms. 

“P-Please, Count Dracula,” she hisses, all thoughts of brave martyrdom fleeing her head. “Spare me.”

Dracula rolls his eyes at her and scoffs, “Don’t be boring, Evangeline. I can stomach a lot of things but not boring.”

She watches, wide-eyed as he raises a hand and softly unfastens the neck piece from her garment. The cowl and veil fall to the ground allowing soft waves of auburn hair to spill over her shoulders. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes drawn to the hollow of her throat, the flesh pulsing with the erratic rush of blood beneath the surface. “Now, I’ll need you to try to calm yourself, Evangeline. Panic tends to sour the taste…”

He draws her closer into his arms all the while Evangeline is looking round for a means of escape. She struggles in his grip but Dracula puts a stop to that with a bruising squeeze of her upper arms and and a sharp hiss of annoyance. She hears the wolves in the courtyard echo him with their mournful howls and knows in her bones that there is no escape. No hope. She stills then, eyes shutting against tears. 

Dracula leans back and unclasps the cape from around his neck, spreading the billowing cloth onto the cold flagstone floor as a makeshift blanket. 

“Come, now,” he beckons, sitting down on the rich velvet lining of the cloak. “Sit with me for a while.”

Evangeline kneels down next to him on the cloth, relieved not to have to support herself on weak knees any longer. Even sitting down the Count looms over her. She looks up into his face and…simply waits. She is completely under his power and his earlier words have made her afraid even to beg for mercy. The Count brings a hand up to her face cupping her cheek and running his fingertips across her lips, over her chin and settling around the base of her neck. He feels her pulse raging under his touch as he begins to speak.

“It won’t hurt. I’ll make it like falling asleep into the loveliest dream. Won’t that be nice?” he soothes, gently rubbing his fingers against her pulse point, holding her wide-eyed stare. “I’ll hold you in my arms, place a kiss on that lovely throat, and then you’ll be gone from here. No pain. No fear.”

Evangeline’s pulse still thunders under his fingers and her breathing is erratic. With a sigh Dracula places a hand on her chest and gently pushes her back until she’s lying on the cape. 

“Well,” he says, propping himself up on an elbow to lean over her, “I have a little bit of time. No need to rush.”

He slides his palm over the fabric of her habit, dragging it over her breasts, her waist and settling on her hip where he kneads the flesh with a possessive touch. He bends forward and brushes his lips over hers in a slow, tender kiss. Evangeline’s breath catches in her throat, her thoughts stuttering to a halt as he continues the kiss, stroking her plump lower lip with his tongue, probing inside her mouth. He buries a hand in her hair, tangling in the soft locks as he gives her her first…her last kiss.

“There, now,” he mutters into her lips. “See how nice it can be, Evangeline? We can’t let you die a virgin, can we?”

With this last question he starts hiking up the skirt of her habit and bunching it round her hips. Evangeline feels a flash of alarm that lasts a second before he’s reaching underneath and cupping her sex in the palm of his hand. She gasps at the intrusion, at his bold, confident touch. It sends a thrilling shock wave through her body and she feels herself arch involuntarily into his touch for a second before recalling herself and shrinking back slightly.

The Count is relentless in his ministrations, though. He strokes his long, elegant fingers against her through the fabric of her drawers, pressing the heel of his palm into her sensitive mound in a rhythmic motion, kindling a sweet ache inside her that pulses and stutters. She pants and moans, writhing under his fingers and looking up at him in a look that mingles arousal, awe and horror. Dracula smiles down at her, reveling in the nun’s undoing. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises as he snakes his hand up and under the waist of her drawers, delving into the wet apex of her thighs. “Do you want more, Evangeline?”

He pauses and lets his fingers hover over her hypersensitive flesh awaiting her response. Evangeline turns her face away, staring up at the crucifix on the wall and gasping in frustrated pleasure. She wants more. _God save her_. 

“Yes,” she whispers, eyes still trained on the image of her Savior, witness to her sin.

Dracula grasps her chin in his fingers and turns her to face him, his eyes blazing with intensity, “Tell me.”

Evangeline’s cheeks flush a bright crimson of humiliation and shame as she says the word more firmly, “Yes.”

The vampire’s lips spread in a wicked smile and he caresses her face almost lovingly, “You really are something special, Evangeline.”

He places a soft kiss on her lips and then slithers down her body, disappearing beneath the folds of her habit. Evangeline’s eyes widen and her mouth falls open when she feels him slide off her drawers and press his mouth against her. He licks, kisses and strokes her in her most intimate place. The slip of his tongue against the tender bundle of nerves at her apex causes her to buck in shock and pleasure and she’s mortified to find that she’s reached down to run her fingers through his thick, black hair, holding his mouth in place against her and urging him to continue with his kisses until she feels the waves of pleasure within her quiver and suddenly peak.

As the nun shivers through her orgasm, Dracula sinks his fangs into the inside of her thigh, tapping the femoral artery and gorging on the rich blood that floods his mouth. His fingers dig into her hips, holding her still as he feasts. He tastes the wanton pleasure coursing through her veins, the sweet tang of wonder at the new feelings inside her, and the hollow echo of shame she experiences at breaking her vows. He takes it all in, drinking her soul and stealing her essence. The tension in her body ebbs as the orgasm passes and the blood loss starts to weaken her. Dracula pulls back, his mouth splashed with the bright red stain of blood, and crawls up her body. 

Evangeline’s eyes are closed and her head is thrown back, a soft smile on her lips. She looks utterly debauched and…perfect. Dracula bends down and captures her lips in a slow kiss, forcing the taste of her own blood into her mouth. 

“Are you ready now, Evangeline?” he asks, brushing his lips over hers as he speaks. He runs his fingers through her hair in a touch that’s gentle and almost comforting. His eyes are soft, a mockery of sympathy and caring as he looks down at her. 

Evangeline looks back at him, still fuzzy in the aftermath of pleasure and nods her head slowly. She’s ready. _Ready for what, again?_

Dracula shifts his body until he’s hovering over her, his hips aligned with hers and his face tucked into the crook of her neck. He reaches down to free his straining cock and she feels the press of him against her, the stretch and sudden fullness as he pushes forward, the echo of a stinging pain as his fangs pierce the skin of her throat. And then she’s lost again on waves of bliss.

Dracula writhes over the nun’s form, lost in his lustful frenzy and pounding her ruthlessly as his teeth tear into her neck. He’s under a spell, overwhelmed by the eroticism of her hot, pulsing blood flowing over his tongue as he sheaths himself in her tight little cunt. He reaches his hands down to cup her buttocks, kneading the soft, round flesh with his razor sharp claws. 

Evangeline is far away. She’s conscious of the pleasure of the vampire’s kiss and the blissful burn of surrender as he takes her virginity. But she’s dreaming too. Dreaming of the fields in springtime. The yellow flowers and the big, fat bees that spin lazily in the air. Dreaming of her father’s house, he’s still alive and they are so happy. The images are conjured, injected with the vampire’s venom, but they are beautiful and comforting. She clings to them as the images begin to blur and the colors bleed together. Her body feels so, so far away now.

Dracula groans in pleasure as he releases her from his “kiss.” He arches back and spills his seed inside her, coming with a final, ferocious thrust of his hips. His little nun is barely conscious and whimpering in her sweet slumber. He carefully pulls out, tucking himself back into his trousers and sitting back to regard her little body. Not yet a corpse. _Still enough life left in her…_

He stands and wraps the girl in the rich red and black fabric of his cloak, picking her up and cradling her to his chest.

“Sweet little nun,” he whispers into her hair as he places a kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to make you last.”


End file.
